


as time passes

by quicheand



Category: Infinite (Band), K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Angst, Boyband, Canon Compliant, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-06
Updated: 2011-09-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicheand/pseuds/quicheand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was as if Jonghyun turned around one day to find he'd been replaced, discarded like last season's fashion and his place with Key stolen by another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	as time passes

The thing he hated most about flying wasn’t the jet lag, or the cramped space, or even the awful, not-quite-real taste of the in-flight meals. It was the way, for a day or two after he got off the plane, the musty, recycled smell of the air in the cabin stuck in his nose. He could never get rid of it, no matter how much he tried. The only thing that worked was time, was just waiting for a couple of days until the smell went away on its own. Until then, it kept him awake at night and came up to bother him periodically throughout the day. He would snort and shake his head slightly, as if hoping to clear the odor away, even though he knew by now that it wouldn’t do anything.

“Don’t do that,” Key said. Their eyes met in the mirror Key was using to paint delicate lines of makeup onto the outer corners of his eyes.

“But the smell,” said Jonghyun. 

Key huffed exasperatedly and capped his eyeliner. “What smell.” The way he said it, it didn’t sound like a question.

Jonghyun answered anyway. “The airplane smell. It sticks in my nose, you know.”

Key stared at him, baleful. “No,” he said after a moment. “I don’t know.”

“You never know.”

“No,” said Key. He’d turned away by then, and was picking out a new color from the array of makeup on the counter. “I never know what you’re trying to say.”

 

 

But he could, apparently, understand Nam Woohyun. Suddenly the two were doing everything together, and when they couldn't meet due to busy schedules, they were constantly texting, sharing stories and details and secrets Key used to share only with Jonghyun. It was as if Jonghyun turned around one day to find he'd been replaced, discarded like last season's fashion and his place with Key stolen by another.

It was amazing, the rapidity with which Key's face could change. Jonghyun would say something, and Key would say nothing in reply, simply staring at him with an empty expression, and then he'd spot Woohyun down the hall, and his face would instantly light up.

“Woohyun!” he'd call, with an energetic wave. Jonghyun turned to see Woohyun waving back, and then when he turned back again, Key was no longer there; he'd bounded off to Woohyun, and Jonghyun could do nothing but swallow the bitterness in his throat and smooth his features into pretended nonchalance as he watched them chatting animatedly together.

“Right,” said Jonghyun to no one. “And I'll just—be over here, in case you need me.”

It didn't look like Key would need him anytime soon.

 

Key bought five copies of Infinite's album, pressing four of them onto his friends and family—“It's _amazing,_ ” he assured them; “You're really going to love it”—and keeping one for himself. He was sitting at the kitchen table, poring over the album thanks, when Jonghyun walked in.

“Look here,” said Key. “Woohyun thanked me in their first album—'Kibummie, my other half,' he said.” He sounded proud; Jonghyun wanted to smack him. Instead, he pulled out the chair opposite Kibum and sat down.

There was a bowl of fruit on the table, cherries and blueberries and sliced pears. An odd combination, Jonghyun thought, but reached out to hook a pair of cherries with his index finger anyway.

“Uh huh,” he said, slowly. “That's nice of him.” 

Key exhaled sharply. He slammed the album cover closed, then opened it again, smoothing out the crease he'd made on Woohyun's page with a frown.

“You’re always like this,” he said.

“Like what?”

But instead of answering, Key just sighed and got to his feet. He walked away without pushing in his chair. Jonghyun spit the cherry pits out onto a napkin, then looked down at them. They stared back at him, two bloodshot eyes, until he folded it neatly in half and creased it carefully with his thumbnail. The cherry pits made two lumps in the soft paper, stained slightly pink. He stared at them until the light coming in through the window changed and he could no longer tell what color the twin spots were.

 

 

It hadn't started out like this. Jonghyun remembered seeing Key smiling at him for the first time and falling in love, easily and instantly. He remembered the butterflies that threatened to spill from over his tongue as he blurted out a confession, hardly knowing what he was saying but meaning every word. He remembered Key telling him, voice low and sweet like he was sharing a secret, that he felt the same way. And days spent laughing together under the sunlight that filtered down between tall buildings, and nights spent hidden away in the darkness, stifling moans and trying, voracious, to learn each other better, to memorize every inch of each other's skin. And a million small touches and glances that were a constant reminder: _I'm still here, I love you, you're beautiful_.

It had all deteriorated. Too much time had passed, maybe, and now everything Jonghyun needed was crumbling around him. Now, he'd try in vain to catch Kibum's eye until everyone else, everyone but Key, had noticed. He'd lay a hand gently on Key's hip, only to be met with a sharp glance, warning him to retreat.

“Kibum.” _Please,_ he thought, _just give me any sign you still love me._ He reached out a hand, wrapping his fingers around the crook of Key's elbow.

Key shook him off. Jonghyun breathed out slowly, pushing the air through his teeth, and turned to leave.

“Don't wait up for me,” called Key, not even bothering to turn around. “I'm going out with Woohyun later.”

 _Woohyun_ , thought Jonghyun bitterly. Damn Woohyun.

 

 

Jonghyun lay awake that night, long after the moon had risen high over the city, long after Taemin dragged a barely-conscious Onew into their bedroom, long after Minho's breathing evened out into soft snores. He lay there, wanting but unable to sleep, until he heard the door creak open and the soft paired thumps of Kibum kicking off his shoes in the entrance. Jonghyun hardly dared to breathe; he listened to the sound of the bathroom door shutting quietly, the muffled sound of running water, and, a few minutes later, Key padding carefully down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The clock read 3:04 am.

Jonghyun still couldn't sleep—he felt too alert, too on edge. Unwanted thoughts and images kept flickering across his mind; his stomach turned itself over unpleasantly. He looked at the clock again: 3:45. He tried to count sheep, but they morphed into dogs in his mind's eye, horrible, vicious, rabid dogs that foamed at the mouth; all of them were named Woohyun. 4:16. Jonghyun wondered if Key was asleep yet.

He didn't know when he finally drifted off, but it felt like mere minutes before his alarm clock started shrieking in his ear. He sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes; they felt swollen, and he thought for a minute it was from the lack of sleep, but as he trailed his hand down his face, he felt crusted lines of dried tear tracks, and he realized he'd cried, sometime during the night (morning).

“Turn that damn thing off,” grumbled Minho from the other side of the room. Jonghyun smacked his hand down on his alarm clock and gripped it tightly. It took a moment for the urge to hurl it at the wall to pass.

 

 

Key looked just as bad as Jonghyun felt. He relished in that fact, but his satisfaction was short-lived; it suddenly occurred to him that the reason Key looked so out-of-sorts this morning was probably that he was still sore from being fucked by Woohyun last night. Jonghyun couldn't bring himself to look at Key anymore, after that.

But he forced himself to keep going, get dressed, eat breakfast, forced himself to sit through hair and makeup before going on stage to perform. It's not true, he insisted to himself at random intervals throughout the whole thing. Nothing happened; I'm just being paranoid.

He forced himself to keep going until after they were done performing, after the recording was over, when he passed Infinite in the hallway.

“I'm exhausted,” Woohyun was saying. “I'm barely even keeping myself upright right now.”

“Oh my gosh, hyung, are you alright?” came a high, worried voice—Sungjong.

The others laughed. “Our innocent Sungjong,” said one person; Jonghyun, past them already, couldn't tell who it was and didn't look back to see.

He had passed them already and was still walking. He was almost far enough away that he didn't hear what came next, but the sound drifted over to him, almost-but-not-quite inaudible.

“He's only tired because he was up all night having sex.”

 

 

Key was out all night with Woohyun. Woohyun was up all night having sex. Key was having sex with Woohyun all night.

The information kept circling around Jonghyun's head, screaming at him. He stumbled outside, to where SHINee's van was parked, their manager waiting.

“Jonghyun,” he said as Jonghyun came into sight. “Finally. Tell the rest of the boys to hurry it up, will you?” Jonghyun said something in reply—he wasn't sure what—he wasn't even sure if the noises coming out of his mouth were words. Their manager frowned and stepped forward. “Are you okay?” he asked. Jonghyun nodded—or maybe he shook his head; he didn't really know, didn't really care. He mumbled something about needing some time alone, saying he'd get back to the dorm on his own.

All he could think of was the proof, finally, that what he'd been suspecting, dreading, was true. He had the proof now, and he had no idea what to do with it.

 

 

So he ran. Or maybe he didn’t run. Maybe he only cried, and imagined he was running. He lost track of where he was, or if he was moving at all. He lost track of everything, forgot about the world, until hours later, when he found himself kneeling in the entry of their dorm, blood on his knuckles and sweat trickling down from his hairline.

“Where’d you go?” asked Kibum, appearing suddenly from around the corner. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

It took a few moments before Jonghyun could catch his breath enough to reply. “I don’t know,” he said; “Out,” he said; “Around,” he said.

“Jesus,” said Key on an exhaled breath. He dropped to a crouch, suddenly, abruptly, in front of Jonghyun, and reached out to take Jonghyun’s hand, gingerly. “What’d you do to yourself?” he said. He held on to Jonghyun’s fingers and brushed his other hand over the scraped skin of Jonghyun’s knuckles; Jonghyun hissed but didn’t pull away.

“Come on.” Key's fingers slid up to wrap around Jonghyun's wrist, and he tugged until Jonghyun got to his feet, robotically, and followed Key down the hall to the bathroom.

He sat on the edge of the tub, and after disappearing for a moment to find the first-aid kit, Key joined him there. He reached for Jonghyun's hand again, and Jonghyun let him take it, numbly. After a moment, he realized Key was saying something to him.

“You're so stupid,” was what he was saying. “Where did you even go? What did you do, punch a wall? I really don't know what to do with you sometimes.”

Jonghyun jerked away from the sting of the disinfectant Key was now swiping across his scraped knuckles. The sharp pain cleared his head, a little, and when Key moved to grab his hand again, he pulled away, suddenly angry.

“It's your fault,” he said, almost spitting.

Key rocked back to sit on his ankles. “Are you stupid? How is this my fault?”

“You—Woohyun,” said Jonghyun. His throat stung, like he was going to cry. He wasn't going to cry.

“So is it my fault or Woohyun's? Make up your mind.” Key sighed, exasperatedly. The disinfectant-soaked cotton ball was going to dry up, Jonghyun found himself thinking vaguely; he'll need to pour more later.

“I'm not stupid, okay?” Jonghyun balled his hands into fists; a fresh wave of pain burst over his knuckles. “I know about you and Woohyun, okay?”

Key froze. Jonghyun couldn't decide whether he felt smug or disappointed.

“What is it,” started Key, “that you think you know, exactly?”

“You're cheating on me,” Jonghyun had to swallow before he could go on. “I've suspected since the beginning, and I know for sure now.”

Key was silent, eyes downturned. “Damn it, Kibum,” exclaimed Jonghyun. “Say something!”

It was another moment before he did. “I don't know whether to laugh or slap you across the face,” he said. Jonghyun reeled back, surprised. That had not been the reaction he'd expected.

“What?”

Key scrubbed a hand over his eyes. “You're so stupid, Jjong,” he said, looking up. “I'm not cheating on you.”

Jonghyun scoffed. A moment later, he was falling backward into the bathtub as Key shoved him, hard; he caught himself on one hand—the scraped one—and hissed in pain.

“What the fuck, Kibum?” he growled.

“Nothing is going on between Woohyun and me,” said Key. “We're friends, and that's all.” He looked down at Jonghyun, still lying sprawled in the tub, eyeing him for a moment. “Are you going to hit me?” he asked. Jonghyun considered for a moment, then shook his head. Key climbed into the tub next to him, and Jonghyun pushed himself gingerly to a sitting position.

“How could you even think that?” Key said. “How could you even think that I was cheating on you?”

Jonghyun bit his lip for a second, and then opened his mouth and suddenly everything was spilling out. “You said you were going out with him last night,” he said. “And you were gone all night—you didn't get back until almost morning—and you looked like shit this morning—don't laugh, it's not funny! And then I overheard Infinite talking today, talking about—about Woohyun, having sex all night, but he was with you, so who else could it have been?” His eyes were wet, his vision swimming, and he looked away from Key before his tears could fall.

“Jjong,” said Key, and Jonghyun thought he heard a hint of fondness through the exasperation in his voice. He turned, just a little, just enough to see Key out of the corner of his eye; Key was shaking his head.

“It's not just that,” continued Jonghyun before Key could say anything. “It's—you've been different for ages. You never look at me properly anymore, and whenever I try to touch you, you pull away.”

“Yeah,” said Key, voice rising to cover what Jonghyun had been about to say next, “so people don't see and get the wrong—or rather, the right—idea. So fangirls don't take a picture of you _groping_ me and slather it all over the internet.”

“Not _groping_ ,” muttered Jonghyun.

“And I definitely wasn't having sex with Woohyun,” continued Key as if he hadn't heard. “We were just talking and drinking, and then Woohyun went off with some girl and I fell asleep on the way back here and missed the stop and had to circle back again.”

“You expect me to believe that?” demanded Jonghyun, even though he wanted to; even though he could already feel his resolve, his surety slipping.

“It's the truth,” said Kibum, simply.

Jonghyun thought for a moment. “Then,” he said, “what about when Infinite's album came out, and you were so excited to be mentioned as Woohyun's 'other half?'”

Key scoffed. “You think I would have bragged about that to you if I was cheating on you?” he said. “You're taking everything the wrong way.”

Jonghyun didn't say anything to that. He was busy racking his brains, analyzing every one of Key's actions over the past few months, comparing them to how Key used to be, wondering if he had jumped to a premature conclusion. He'd been sure that something had turned horribly wrong, that Key's feelings for him had gone sour—but what if he was wrong?

“You snapped at me,” he said, grasping at straws. “You always snap at me.”

“Yeah,” said Key. “I always snap at you—and I always have. Have you forgotten? You never used to mind.”

It was true, Jonghyun realized. In between the sweet words and glances, Key had been one hell of a bitch. But knowing he didn't really mean any harm had dulled the edges of his sharp remarks; when had Jonghyun forgotten that?

“Jjong,” said Key, again, gently this time. He laid a hand on Jonghyun's arm, and Jonghyun looked over at him. “You idiot,” said Key, a smile playing around his lips. “I still love you.”

Jonghyun's heart soared—or maybe it just lodged itself in his throat; maybe that was what that hopeful lump there was. “Really?” he said, almost a whisper.

“Would I put up with you if I didn't?” asked Key, a hint of laughter in his voice. Jonghyun tilted his head, thinking. Key laughed for real this time, the sound echoing off the metal interior of the tub. “That was a rhetorical question,” he said.

Jonghyun wrinkled his nose. “No fair using big words,” he said. Key laughed again, then leaned in to press a kiss to Jonghyun's lips.

“Hey, I'm still mad at you,” protested Jonghyun when Key sat back again; but there was no real venom to his words, especially since his hands were already reaching for Kibum, pulling him in again.

“Okay,” said Key, smiling against Jonghyun's lips. “That's fine—so long as you don't stop caring.”

“I won't,” said Jonghyun. Key kissed him again. “Hey,” said Jonghyun when they pulled apart. “What about you?”

“I won't stop caring either,” said Key, and it was a promise: “I never will.”


End file.
